The Weselton Dynasty
by The Rational One
Summary: Follow along in the events occurring right after the movie with all your favorite characters as the Duke of Weselton proves to be the most exemplary. Through cunning, intrigue, and rhetoric, the Duke exerts himself throughout the Frozen world and realizes his vision for a better future, making the movie actually worth watching in hindsight.
1. Chapter 1: Gambit

**Gambit**

"This is an absolute outrage," spoke the head member of Weselton's Commerce Guild. "She can't treat us this way...without us Arendelle is nothing. What exactly happened over there, Your Grace?" His voice boomed throughout the grand chamber of Weselton's royal palace.

"Well kind sir," the Duke replied, "As I previously stated, Queen Elsa of Arendelle has placed an embargo upon our city. She won't allow any trade. I warned you before that she would present nothing but deliberate mischief after her coronation."

After having recently returned to Weselton with news of Elsa's first official act as queen, the Duke assembled all of Weselton's significant merchants to deliberate appropriate courses of action. They sat patiently around a long rectangular table and listened attentively, for their livelihoods -and that of their city's- depended greatly on what was accomplished here and now. The Duke, flanked on both sides by his two henchmen, continued his report in his typical pompous demeanor. To the Commerce Guild of Weselton, his words came across like those of a prophet of doom. To them, nothing could bear more truth than his speech.

"The Queen has deliberately sabotaged our economy, our way of life, and she has marred our heritage and culture with this embargo. She must be made to see the error of her ways, through force of arms if necessary."

With this suggestion a light murmur could be heard throughout the chamber. The dozen or so members all turned inwards to their neighbors with surprised looks on their faces.

"Furthermore," The Duke continued, "I have come to a most terrible and horrific realization. Queen Elsa is a sorceress! She has somehow managed to harvest the powers of snow and ice, and has wrecked a terrible carnage upon her own lands. Summer turns to Winter, and her people cry out against her evil ways. Her disposition is not only warranted by the facts brought before you today, but by the morals in which we in Weselton pride ourselves."

As the side conversations between various guild members grew louder, one spoke out with reference to the Duke's proposal and made himself heard. "It's impossible," he said. "We have no ships apart from our trade vessels, and we have no military apart from our local guard and police force. Not to mention that if Queen Elsa is in possession of magic powers as you claim, we won't stand a chance."

At this the members of the Commerce Guild all voiced their opinions. The Duke silently wondered how so few voices could sound like so many.

One member remarked, "Her powers matter not. The people of Arendelle will rise against her."

"Her powers are everything. We couldn't possibly win," spoke another.

"There must be a war! we can win!"

"No, we most certainly cannot!"

The small assembly grew louder and more rambunctious. Insults and accusations of cowardice could be heard among the rabble until eventually the guild leader had had enough.

"SILENCE!"

The head member slammed his fist onto the table as he yelled. The magnitude of force caused a wine glass to topple onto the floor, but no one dared move a muscle to retrieve it. All were silent, just as the head member demanded.

"This is preposterous," he exclaimed. "We'll have recess to collect our thoughts, and then return on the morrow for further deliberation. A decision of this importance cannot be made hastily."

The guild members remained silent while nodding their agreement. One by one they rose from their chairs and made their way to the exit. The Duke made an effort to be the last departure. Accompanied by his two ever-faithful servants, he made his way through the corridor of Weselton's palace and out to the courtyard which led to the bustling city street.

The Duke expressed his inner thoughts, "Look at all these fine people of our glorious city. Soon they will have nothing to buy, and soon the merchants will have nothing to sell. We'll starve at the hands of that witch in Arendelle...unless...yes, of course!" He stopped walking and put his index finger to his chin. Those walking behind him now found difficulty in maneuvering around. Many expressed anger towards the arrogant duke, only to mute their sentiments at the sight of his two intimidating henchmen.

"I know what I must do," said the Duke. He turned towards his men. "Go the local brothel, and there you will find the mercenary pirate captain. Have him come to my manor tonight at midnight. It will be well worth his while." The henchmen obediently nodded their heads in unison and walked briskly towards the nearest side alley. The Duke quickly returned to his personal residence. _So much to do, so much to do_, he thought. _I must get to work immediately_.

Later that night the Duke found himself hard at work at his desk. His home reflected the luxurious lifestyle of a duke. Portraits hanging on the professionally decorated walls, glass chandeliers in the larger atrium-type rooms. Silk curtains and antique furniture made up the interior decor. Despite his privileged life, the Duke had little time to marvel at such things. For the moment his mind was doing what it did best: contriving schemes. His hand frantically worked a quill pen across multiple sheets of paper. Through his scribbling, he could hardly make out the distant bell tower signaling the arrival of midnight. The Duke heard a loud knock on his front door and rose to answer it. Typically he would have a doorman for such mundane tasks, but tonight the Duke could take no chances; what occurred that night must remain an absolute secret. Upon opening the double doors to his home, the Duke gazed at three hooded figures, all three of which he recognized. There were his henchmen, competent as always, and the mercenary pirate captain, whose loyalty always went to the highest bidder.

"Come in, come in," said the Duke as he motioned the cloaked men inside. "Were you followed?"

Both henchmen spoke in unison again. "No, Your Grace."

The four men made their way into the living quarters. The Duke began his descent into a large and expensive chair when the mercenary sat first. Both henchmen remained standing.

"By George, have you no manners?" The Duke chided the mercenary as would a teacher to a misbehaving schoolboy. "I am the Duke of Weselton, and am always first to sit. Rise to your feet at once."

The mercenary captain expressed a look of disbelief. Any stranger who spoke to him in such ways would have spoken his last, but the mercenary knew his paycheck depended upon this arrogant, old fool who obviously wore a hairpiece. Containing his suppressed anger, he rose to his feet. The Duke sat down speaking as he did so, "Now you may all resume your seats."

A typical meeting at the Duke's manor would be accompanied with servings of tea and cakes, but also the meeting would have occurred at a more appropriate hour. The Duke knew this meeting would alter the course of history, not only that of Weselton, but that of himself. He breathed deeply and began to speak directly to the mercenary.

"I need every man you have, along with every ship you have. I can accommodate the necessary supplies and wages. I need them ready to depart the day after tomorrow."

The mercenary pirate replied, "Your Grace, that's quite a request..." he paused. "and just what do I get in return?"

A half smile appeared on the duke's wrinkled face. "All the riches in the Southern Isles."

The next day the commerce guild reconvened to finalize their intentions for Arendelle, the Duke of course being the last to be seated. As usual, all the members were speaking at once, with no sign of civilized order present. _These half-wit peons, _the Duke thought, _They have no decency. _The head member smashed his fist into the table for lack of a proper hammer.

"I call this meeting to order," he said. "The honorable Duke of Weselton will now give his final testimony on the matter of declaring war on Arendelle."

The Duke leapt to his feet with energy uncommon in men his age. "Thank you, old chap." He spoke with a condescending tone. "I've given this grave matter much thought yester night, and have concluded that war with Arendelle is at this time is not only most impossible, but most undesirable."

Every member of the guild rose shouting their opinions, chairs falling backwards in the process. Proponents of peace applauded what they presumed to be the Duke's revelation, while proponents of war accused him and all others who disagreed as being cowardly. Food even flew into the face of one of the more outspoken members.

The head member seemed lost in insanity. "ENOUGH I SAY!" In a blind fit of rage the council head grasped the rather large table with both hands underneath and tossed it into the air. It crashed loudly onto the floor with all its contents rolling and bouncing in every direction. The perplexed guild members stared at their head member in disbelief. Feeling as though he had somewhat regained control of the situation, the head member spoke to the Duke who up until that moment had been standing some distance away with his hands clasp behind his back silently collecting his thoughts. He seemed not to notice the outburst.  
"But Your Grace," spoke the head member to the Duke, "just yesterday you were the most enthusiastic of war. And yet now you want to maintain peace. How can one have such a reversal overnight?"

The Duke replied, "I've come to realize that even if Arendelle has a sorceress on its throne, and even if that same sorceress has enacted a most dishonorable trade restriction upon our great city, going to war would be an atrocity to our people. We would be no better than Queen Elsa."

The head guild member stood still with a puzzled look on his face; he never knew the Duke for being an advocate of morality. The Duke turned and exited the chamber without waiting for the head guild member's reply or the opinion of his companions. He had said all that was needed. He was the Duke, ruler of Weselton. If he wanted war, there would be war. If he wanted peace, there would be peace. Arendelle would come later, he thought. For now, all that remained was to return home and prepare for tomorrow's voyage.

The next day invited a new sense of purpose into the Duke's mind. He awoke early, and instructed his servants to pack his personal baggage. Just a few weeks ago he was being tossed like a bail of hay onto a Weselton-bound ship after being dishonored at the hands of Queen Elsa, and now he would be embarking to the Southern Isles to avenge his recent mortification. The Weselton Commerce Guild, or anyone of Weselton for that matter, knew nothing of his plot. Not even his two henchmen were fully aware of the scale of his plans. After his servants packed and loaded his baggage onto a stagecoach, the Duke boarded, and ordered the driver forward. The Duke rode in silent, much to the satisfaction of his driver who usually had to listen to consistent rants on such journeys. Onward the coach went from the Duke's manor, through metropolitan Weselton, and finally arrived at its final destination: the docks. There the mercenary pirate captain had gathered his flotilla of ships and his rag-tag band of followers.

Upon arrival, the Duke barked orders at his servants.  
"Begin loading my effects at once!" He shouted.

As his servants loaded his baggage onto the flagship of the mercenary pirate captain's fleet, the Duke walked to where his henchmen and the captain had gathered immediately interrupting their conversation. "Shall we depart then?"

The mercenary pirate captain said nothing, but by the expression on his face one could assume that whatever words he might have spoken would have been sarcastic. The Duke boarded the captain's ship, followed by the Duke's two henchmen, and finally the captain. Once the Duke's exaggerated amount of personal baggage was loaded, the flotilla set sail. The sun had been in the sky for sometime before the final ships of the fleet left the harbor.

The captain stood on the bridge of his ship, admiring the collection of ships and men he assembled. "A fine day to sail," he said generally to no one in particular. "The wind is at our backs, and the Southern Isles host hospitable waters. We should be there in a few days."

"Excellent, just excellent," the Duke responded. "I shall retire for the day in your quarters, captain. Send one of my men to wake me should any pressing matters present themselves."

The captain glared viciously at the Duke's back as he made his way into the bowels of the ship, leaving behind his two henchmen to accompany the captain. The captain knew that 'for the day' meant for the remainder of the voyage. To the captain at least, the Duke being inside meant he would be absent from the bridge...an arrangement the captain could be content with. He still knew very little of the origin or objective of this voyage, but one thing he did know is that the Duke pays well, and never defaults. The captain steered his ship in the direction of the Southern Isles, and made for open water.


	2. Chapter 2: A Good and Wise King

**A Good and Wise King**

Hans sat before his brother, King of the Southern Isles, bound in chains and charged with high treason against both his native kingdom and that of Arendelle. Crimes against the state and royal families are no light matter, and Hans reflected inwardly about how his well-calculated plans went horribly awry. The royal palace in the Southern Isles portrayed the typical style of a Baltic realm. Built on a cliff overlooking the city and beach front, the castle boasted large stone rooms, rugs made of the finest material, and impressive stone statues that dotted the interior of the castle.

For his enquiry, Hans found himself in the central throne room, accustomed with a large stain-glassed window behind the throne, and an overhead wooden balcony from which members of the King's court anxiously looked on. Hans could not make out any figures he recognized, but he knew he had to have had several brothers in the audience. Brothers had always been a problem of his, he thought as the clerk announced that the trial would soon commence. After all, jealousy of his eldest brother and malice towards the others are the reasons for his current troubles.

As he continued recollecting the events of the past few days, mainly having failed to secure the throne of Arendelle, his brother the King shattered his train of thought with a direct question.

"What do you have to say for yourself, brother? Have you any idea the shame you have wrought upon our family? Not to mention the calamity you could have caused with this scandal of yours. Conspiring against the royal sisters of Arendelle, attempted murder, inciting civil unrest...need I continue?"

"No," replied Hans. "My only regret is that my plans have failed. So let's get on with this and stop wasting our time."

The King sat quietly for a moment. Criminals have been put to death for less severe crimes than those committed by Hans; yet Hans is family. The King looked up at the courtiers in the balcony, among them family, friends, enemies, and notable figures from all corners of the Southern Isles. _What would they think of me should I release my brother? What would they think of me should I have him executed? _These questions roamed the King's mind and greatly disturbed his emotions. Hans must be punished, he concluded, but mercy should be shown.

The King stood and announced loudly so all could hear, "Hans, I hereby sentence you to exile. Be gone at once from my sight. Never again will you return to the Isles."

Hans remained silent while standing to his feet. As he did so a number of guards came forth to escort him out. The courtiers above broke their silence however, and began chatting among themselves. The King seemed not to be able to make out any clear responses with regards to the sentencing. Although he knew that his title as king allowed him executive authority, and that he could enact any command he wished, he was also a wise king, and aware of the fact that his other brothers all exerted significant influence throughout the kingdom. The King and each of the brothers had great influence among various magistrates and barons. Some of the King's brothers even encouraged certain dukes and earls to be outright disloyal to the King, but the King was powerless to curb them. An act against them would entice the other nobles to rebel, and his crown would be in jeopardy.

The King left the throne room before it was entirely vacant. He needed to return to his quarters at once to reflect upon the day's events. After returning to his bedchamber, he found his wife, the Queen, sitting in his favorite and only rocking chair while gazing out of a window.

"That's my chair," declared the King.

The Queen possessed an adequate degree of self-awareness and knew not to dispute the King on such an important issue, so she silently relocated to a stationary chair of less significance.

The King had a quaint bedchamber that reflected his simplistic nature. There were separate beds, seeing as though the Queen was a notorious disrupter of the blankets during the night, and each bed featured wool linen, as opposed to the silk ordinarily found in wealthy homes. Only a single, small rug separated one's feet from the icy stone floor, but the King barely noticed seeing as though he fancied wearing sandals at all hours of the day, even when inside his own palace. Preferring tea to wine, and consuming modest meals as opposed to expensive banquets, the King sought to economize every aspect of his life, so long as they molded with his unique preferences. Courtiers often sneered at his misguided sense of fashion and disdain for the eloquences befitting a king, but the King could not have been more apathetic to the opinions of egocentric bureaucrats.

An advocate of peace and a lover of the philosophies, the King desired most of all order and stability. Although he was a prudent and just king, he had no children, hence no heirs. A lack of heirs inspires uncertainty throughout a realm. He knew Hans would not be the only brother involved with some power-grasping conspiracy. At least in Hans' case, the conspiracy took place elsewhere, and not at home where central authority was somewhat weakened by feudalistic hindrances. The King realized his 'kingdom' characterized a loose confederacy more so than it did an actual kingdom. Had the scandal occurred in the Isles, the damage would have been far worse, seeing as though the King essentially lacks an effective means of dealing with rebellion. While considering the faults in his government, and the banishment of his own brother, a troubled look appeared on The King's face, to which his wife took notice.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing." He retorted.

The Queen pressed on, "I know how difficult it must have been to banish your own brother, but you did what you had to do."

The King found little comfort in his wife's presumptions regarding his inner thoughts.

The Queen continued having her say, "It's for the good of the kingdom. You must be very confused right now, but that doesn't mean you have to injure yourself over this. Hans was a troubled man, and no one could have helped him satisfy his ambitious nature. Why, I remember once when I was a girl, I had a friend like Hans. He always undermined his parents in such a way that reminds me of how Hans would always undermine your authority. Eventually he grew up and..."

The King tuned her out. _If only I had not been born royalty, _he thought, _I could have been spared this constant state of torture. Arranged marriages are an absolute nightmare to those not fortunate enough to be the ones doing the arranging. She always goes on and on with her meaningless stories..._

"Servant, come in at once!" the King shouted. He rarely called upon servants, preferring instead to handle his own needs and wants, but this time did so just to silence his wife. The Queen, at having been interrupted and apparently taking notice of the King's motive, turned frustratingly aside and moved to the other side of the room to resume her window gazing. Just then, a servant stationed in the hallway appeared at the door.

"I require some tea." said the King to the servant.

The servant replied with a nod and made for the kitchen.

The King stopped him before he could exit the room. "And see to it that there is double ice. I enjoy cold tea, and I have heard that Arendelle has recently placed trade restrictions on Weselton. The Ice Trading Mountain Men of Arendelle will soon flood our markets with their ice supplies, and the price of ice in the Southern Isles will decline drastically. We will have as much ice as we could ever want and at low cost. It will be grand!"

The King, realizing he had been mostly talking to himself, dismissed the servant with a wave of the hand; however, he continued expressing his thoughts. And for the wise King, his thoughts often coincided with nonnegotiable facts of reality. "Yes, that Queen Elsa may have a large heart, but she's no academic. A trade embargo of Weselton could not be more foolish. What does she expect to do, punish all of Weselton for some personal grievance against one man? Ha! So juvenile is she...there will be recession in both Weselton AND Arendelle, meanwhile the Southern Isles will be able to purchase goods from both realms at a fraction of the pre-embargo cost!"

The King, having felt satisfied with his correct assessment of current events and their ensuing consequences accelerated the speed of his rocking chair. He subconsciously and unwillingly awaited the verbal response of the Queen; she always insisted on voicing her emotionally-charged and uninformed opinion whenever the King made a logical statement, but on this occasion none was forthcoming. Curious, the King slowed his rocking chair while simultaneously glancing in the Queen's direction. She stared out of the window, just as when the King entered the room, but with a focus and determination rarely seen in a small-minded individual. The King became intrigued at whatever could be keeping the Queen silent for this long. He stood from his chair and walked over to the Queen. Standing beside her, he stared through the window at a disturbing scene below on the beach. There stood Hans, being freed from his chains by the royal guards, and being ushered into a small rowboat whence he would sail into the wild blue yonder, never to return.


	3. Chapter 3: Exile

**Exile**

Hans stared in disbelief at the small craft before him. "Just what I'm supposed to do with this?!" he exclaimed.

"Row," replied one of the guards sarcastically. "Just be thankful you're even alive."

Hans stepped into the rowboat and sat down on its small bench. One of the guard's gave him a small bag of food, and a large container of fresh water. "Good luck," he said unsympathetically.

The guards were kind enough to give Hans a pushing start out to sea. Hans rowed relentlessly, battling the fierce waves known to the Southern Isles' beaches. He continued rowing, his view fixed on the royal castle towering above on the cliffs...his former home.

Night befell the Southern waters, but Hans chose not to sleep. He wasn't sure how long his rations would last, nor was he sure of the distance to the nearest landmass not within the Southern Isles realm. Perhaps if he was lucky, he would chance upon local fishermen and receive food and directions out of pity, but Hans could not afford to include luck in his calculations. He had to keep rowing.

Dawn quickly followed the shortened Summer night. A disoriented Hans kept rowing in the direction he hoped would provide sanctuary from this blue void. Land had not been visible since the evening before. Skimming the horizon in search of land, Hans noticed something peculiar. Clouds...strange clouds it seems. White rectangles appeared above the waves. Hans soon realized the error of his judgment. _Those aren't clouds, _he thought, _they're sails. Ships...I'm saved! _Hans rowed energetically in the ships' direction. As the ships drew closer, he became more skeptical. _What if those ships belong my enemies at court, or worse...to Arendelle? They will surely kill me out of spite. _Hans squinted his eyes in the hopes of identifying some symbol of recognition on the ships, but could find none. The ships bore no flags or markings, which led to only one indication: pirates. Hans grew worrisome, fearful even. Pirates are unpredictable in nature, but seeing such an array of pirate ships is odd. Pirates often possess one vessel, two or three at most. Before Hans stood a fleet of impressive scale. Half a dozen ships at least, maybe more. Hans pondered his predicament. Should he row towards or away from them? He realized it mattered not which direction he took, seeing as though the lead pirate vessel raised a small banner, signaling to the others that it had sighted an alien ship. Hans realized the unknown vessel was himself, for there were not other ships within the visibility of a telescope. Even if he wanted to row away from the pirates he would be powerless to do so. A rowboat cannot match in speed a full sized ship. The pirates were on a course to intercept Hans, so all he could do was sit and wait patiently. Perhaps he might survive this encounter.

Not long after their sighting Hans, the pirate vessels were abreast his rowboat on each side. A rope ladder flung over the side of the lead vessel, indicating to Hans that he should climb aboard. Hans grasp hold of the ladder, and climbed up the side of the ship, aided over the railing by pirate crewmembers once arriving at the top. Hospitality among pirates is foreign, and Hans grew all the more skeptical, until he heard a familiar voice.

"Hans old boy welcome aboard!"

Hans spun around and saw a figure he never thought he would encounter again. The Duke of Weselton stood atop the bridge of the ship, along with his two henchmen, as if commanding the vessel himself. He spoke down to Hans. "Come on up, lad."

Hans climbed the stairs to the bridge, orally greeting the Duke as he climbed, physically greeting him with a handshake and bow once close enough.  
"Your Grace, I must admit I'm shocked to find you out here, and with this motley crew. What are you doing with these pirates?" Hans asked confused.

The Duke replied, excited at the opportunity to explain himself. "Why, we've come to rescue you of course! We assumed your heinous brother would have you executed or jailed for life after that wretched Queen Elsa trumped up those charges against you."

"But, I don't understand," Hans continued after a brief pause, "What business does Your Grace have with me?"

"Weselton has come to sympathize with your cause, Hans old boy. Our city government, headed by myself, has concluded that upon initiative taken by you in Arendelle, and by the bravery to stand up to your corrupt family, you have deemed yourself worthy to be the rightful king of the Southern Isles." Hans failed to see through the Duke's fabrication. Weselton was completely ignorant of the Duke's whereabouts, and only the Duke himself supported Hans' claim to the throne, but for reasons different from those mentioned.

"What?!" Hans exclaimed. "I'm not even close in line to the throne in the Isles, and failing to marry Princess Anna alienates me from the throne of Arendelle. The only thing I'm king of is that small rowboat down there." Hans pointed in the direction of the rowboat, but it was gone. Some pirates must have already seized it and stashed it somewhere, claiming it for themselves. Hans showed surprise at such stealth, but lack of surprise towards the stereotypical pirate. They're nothing but thieves in Hans' opinion, and his missing rowboat now confirmed that assertion.

The Duke did not even bother to look in the absent rowboat's direction, instead he continued his explanation. "We were just on our way to rescue you and make your claim to the throne a reality, when one of my men woke me from a most pleasant slumber with news of a distressed boatman in the water. I was discontent at first for being woken for such a nonissue, but now I could not be happier. Come now dear boy, admit it. You want to be King."

Hans could not help but yield to the Duke's persuasion, he did in fact want to be king; however, he and the Duke had many disagreements while in Arendelle, so what could the Duke seek to gain from such an arrangement. Then again, whilst in Arendelle they were both trying to achieve contradictory goals. The possibility of them working together could produce wondrous results.

"Very well," Hans said, "let's go make me king. What can I offer you in return, Your Grace?"

The Duke smiled at yet another victory on the minds of others. "Just assurance that once you're king, you'll help me vanquish Arendelle. They must pay for the embargo."

A new look of distress characterized Hans. "A war with Arendelle? I'm not sure the Southern Isles has appropriate cause for war, despite my contempt for Elsa and Anna. Besides, you saw the power Queen Elsa possesses. I'm not going to become king only to have her destroy me."

The Duke let out a sigh. "You soldier-types are always thinking with your swords. Not a war dear boy, we just need to show them what trade restrictions can do to a society. Once you're king, I will ask you to enter into a pact with Weselton for a trade coalition against Arendelle. Together, our two kingdoms will effectively isolate Arendelle, redeeming the insults the Elsa and Anna have dealt to us both. What say you?"

Hans considered his options. The Duke grinned outwardly, and then returned to a neutral expression after having realized his previous expression was too revealing. He turned his head against the wind, allowing for his hairpiece to blow right off. In a more formal setting, such a move would be politically disastrous, but for now the Duke needed to play a sucker to catch a sucker. Hans would view the clumsy duke and take the appearance at face-value, not crediting the duke with having the foresight required for some devious scheme, while the Duke could hide his intentions and practice his deception. The Duke realized that Hans is too narrow-minded to even realize that a trade embargo from Arendelle against Weselton drastically benefits the Southern Isles, and even if he did, he would be too emotionally outraged at Elsa and Anna to think more critically. Just as the Duke predicted, Hans agreed to the proposal while the Duke chased after his hairpiece.

"Alright," Hans said. "Once I'm king, we'll give Arendelle a taste of its own medicine. No trade from the Southern Isles OR Weselton will reach their lands. They'll be begging for mercy come winter. It will be perfect."

While Hans fantasized over the endless possibilities of both gaining his crown and wrecking havoc upon Arendelle, the Duke leaned towards his two henchmen. Lowering his voice, he whispered: "Once we reach the Southern Isles, be prepared to obey my every command, down the most minute detail." The henchmen did not respond, but indicated their understanding with a slight nod. The Duke resumed his original posture. Interrupting Hans' daydream he put his hand on Hans' shoulder while changing the subject of conversation. "What do you say we go ahead and draft up that trade agreement? We've little else to do before reaching the Southern Isles, and once you're king you will be bogged down with cumbersome administrative duties. Drafting the agreement now could save us some time, and we're free of distractions here."

Hans considered the Duke's suggestion, but offered a rebuttal. "But shouldn't we be planning our moves to seize the crown, this force is not strong enough to simply take it. Our plan must be cunning and well organized."

"Oh, don't you worry about a thing, it's already pre-arranged." The Duke's confidence destroyed Hans' skepticism. Should Hans think with an abstract mind, he would easily realize such a feat to be utterly impossible. The Duke did in fact have a plan, but portrayed it to Hans' as being more developed than it actually was. Hans' faith however, was a crucial element, and the ends justified the means in the Duke's opinion.

"Alright," Hans replied. "Let's get started."

The pair of conniving politicians worked vigorously in the captain's quarters on the treaty between their two realms. The treaty included Arendelle's isolation, along with several other minor aspects relating to provincial matters. The Duke made sure to include several minor articles in the treaty to distract Hans from the more significant artifacts. As the sun set that night, the pair continued working by candlelight. Exhausted from the previous day and night's rowing, Hans collapsed onto the captain's bed. The Duke seemed not to mind that his place of rest became occupied by someone other than himself, for he had more pressing matters to attend. During Hans' rest, the Duke drafted two new articles, and placed them in the middle of the treaty, an area of which both he and Hans had previously reviewed and finalized. The first of the new articles bound Hans' future reign to a new constitution, the first of its kind in the Southern Isles. The article stated that after ascending to the throne, Hans must appoint representatives from the various Island districts, each representative to embody the will of the people. The feudal society of old will be swept away from the Southern Isles. The provincial lords will witness their power and influence eroding away while the general welfare prevails. The constitution, once created, will neutralize Hans' ability as king to act on his own accord. The other new article bound Hans, and the Kingdom of the Southern Isles, to Weselton. A mutual trade agreement against Arendelle, stated the article, would not be sufficient for the Southern Isles in repayment to Weselton for the expense of deposing Hans' eldest brother and placing Hans on the throne. Hans must submit to the counsel of the Duke of Weselton before taking any action, and must not carry out any action that Weselton disapproves. In addition, the Southern Isles must commit direct military aid to Weselton whenever it was required. With these two new articles, one binding Hans to the Southern Isles populace, the other binding Hans to Weselton, the Duke would exert his will over the Southern Isles.

Sunrise cast a ray of light upon small pirate fleet. By dawn the Duke had finished drafting the treaty, and was reviewing its contents one final time. Hans still lay asleep in the bed, but awoke with a startle at one of the pirate crew member's shouting.  
"LAND HO!" could be heard across the ships. The Duke and Hans hurried up the stairs leading to the deck. In the distance could be seen the mighty castle palace of the Southern Isles. Hans relished the sight the home he left not but two days ago, but had mixed feelings with regards to his purpose for returning.

"Hans old chap I finished the treaty last night. All that remains is your signature." The Duke offered Hans the treaty. Hans was so distracted with the approaching island fortress that he signed the document without even glancing at the ink on the page. Handing it back to the Duke, the Duke rolled the treaty up and sealed it in a cylinder container. Tying a leather strap to each end of the container, the Duke slung it over his shoulder and would wear it until the appropriate moment. _Like an apple on a tree, _he imagined, _the fruit cannot be plucked before having ripened, lest it be spoiled. _


	4. Chapter 4: Strategem

**Stratagem **

The crew of the pirate ships bustled about, making preparations for the day's events as the fleet neared the Southern Isles. The lookouts in one of the coastal watchtowers spotted the vessels and realized they were not incoming trade shipments. Bells rung out from the tower, sounding a general alarm.

"Captain!" yelled the Duke. "Move the fleet into the royal harbor, we must take them unawares!"

The Southern Isles harbor sat fixated where the ocean contracted with land in the valley formed by the various mountain ranges, the largest of which bore the Royal Castle. The mercenary pirate captain directed his fleet towards the bay entrance in response to the Duke's command. Sheltered by the bay the Southern Isles Fleet idled and bobbed up and down on the gentle waves. Royal shipmates could be seen stirring about in confusion as they tried to make sense of the bells. Before they could set sail, the pirate fleet closed the distance and entered the harbor.

The Duke stood at the front of the leading pirate vessel, in full view of onlookers from every side, including Hans. "I am the Duke of Weselton, surrender your ships to me and your lives will be spared! Full quarter will be given to all applicants." The Duke made his voice heard loud and clear. The Royal Navy surrendered without a fight, knowing that their situation would have been hopeless in a struggle.

"Captain," the Duke said. "Dispatch some of your crew to seize the captured vessels, and have them put to sea. Tell them to weigh anchor at the bay entrance to blockade the port. I don't want any vessels coming in or out. Keep the cargo for yourself and your crew as a reward. I mentioned you will have riches, continue following me and you will be made wealthy beyond your dreams!"

The captain laughed and responded with a hearty "Yes, Your Grace!" Hans seemed not to like the idea of giving Southern Isles munitions to pirates, nor incorporating what would soon be his fleet into the fleet of brigands. But he knew that questioning the Duke's plan at this stage would be meaningless.

"And one more obligation," the Duke added. "Bring the admiral of the Royal Navy before me. I wish to parley with him."

The pirate captain obeyed with the most enthusiasm yet witnessed by the Duke. It became apparent that the Duke understood pirates, and people in general for that matter. With the proper incentives, people will bend to any will. An in-depth understanding of this concept made the Duke a formidable man.

Not long after the seizure of the Royal Fleet, the Duke commanded the armada to weigh anchor all along the Southern Isle coast line. Supply ships could not make it past the blockade, and any supply ship seized was to have its cargo confiscated and transferred to the pirate captain's storage, much to the pirate captain's liking. The capital city of the Southern Isles was effectively cut off from the outside world.

Soon the Southern Isles admiral stood before the Duke on board the main ship. The Duke prepared to greet him cordially, but the admiral would have none of it. He raised his voice in a fiery rage.

"What is the meaning of this monstrosity?! The Southern Isles has no quarrel with Weselton! Furthermore, you're a gentleman not a bandit. What are you doing affiliated with pirates? And what is that traitor doing here?!" The Admiral expressed his outrage at seeing Hans aboard the ship.

The Duke withheld his reply while the admiral breathed heavily. Eventually the admiral lost patience at the Duke's insolence. "Well, say something!" he said. "Explain yourself at once!"

Finally the Duke spoke. "Return to shore, and tell your king that he is to renounce his claim to the throne, and as head of the royal house, he is also to renounce the claims of all royal siblings, with the exception of Hans, who is to be crowned without delay. We will maintain our blockade until these demands are met."

The admiral dropped his jaw in disbelief. Less than a week ago, Hans was publicly shamed in court, and banished. Now he returns attacking his own sovereign while expecting to become king as a result.

"Need the Duke repeat himself?" Hans said arrogantly to the admiral. "Go to my brother and deliver these terms."

The admiral looked as though he would continue his tirade, but the Duke's two henchmen motioned him to a rowboat he was to use in returning to shore. As he prepared to board the small boat, the Duke stopped him. "Oh no, I'm afraid we cannot spare this vessel. Here, use this." The Duke handed the admiral a round flotation device made of cork as he spoke.

"You really are senile if you think I'm going to swim back." said the admiral in response. He could not realize whether or not the Duke was actually serious. Just then the admiral was hoisted up by the two henchmen and cast overboard. Everyone on board laughed at the admiral's plight.

"The king will hear about this!" the admiral screamed once resurfacing. He swam back to shore without another word.

Hans turned towards the Duke. "My brother will never agree to those terms, and now he won't even consider them after the way to treated his top naval officer. The Southern Isles have enough provisions to withstand a blockade for months on end. We will have to retire before they will submit. I hope you have ample reason for these methods, Your Grace."  
Facing Hans, the Duke replied, "I know the King will never agree, but I threw the admiral overboard for insurance. Having the King dismiss our terms is part of the plan. Now, I'm hungry. Let us dine and discuss future events. Tell me about your other brothers."

Hans and the Duke walked along the deck of the ship towards the captain's quarters. Throughout that morning's breakfast the Duke would focus on Hans' assessment of the royal family, and would learn all he could. His time frame was short, and he would need to act quickly while the emotional shock in the city at the sight of a blockading fleet dominated the peoples' emotional state.

A soaking admiral stood before the King and Queen in the throne room, the courtiers having been dismissed, and relayed the Duke's terms as well as the personal trauma endured.

"Has he gone mad?" the King said with reference to the Duke. "Hiring pirates, attacking our sovereignty...he must pay for this insult."  
The admiral replied while wringing out his clothes, "Highness, the use of pirates as opposed to Weselton naval ships leads me to suspect he's acting as a rogue, and not with the backing of Weselton itself. It's possible they are unaware of what is taking place here. If they are, it will not take but a few weeks for them to discover the truth. Arendelle will soon learn of this as well, and they will come to aid us. The Duke will be a public enemy in every realm, an outlaw." The admiral grinned at the prospect of the Duke's possible change of fortune.

Stroking his chin, the King replied, "We can't send messengers as long as they have our ports surrounded, but we can outlast them as long as we need to. And the Duke knows I would never agree to such preposterous terms. What could he possibly gain by this ludicrous expedition?"

His wife placed her hand on his and remarked, "There must be more to the story. The Duke would not risk his reputation, much less his life, in an attempt to see Hans become king. There has to be an ulterior motive; it's the only way the scenario makes sense."

Hiding his being impressed by his wife's deduction, the King responded, "Hmmm... you may be somewhat right, for once. I will ponder the implications of all this. Guard! Come at once!" A guard came from behind the throne room entrance. "Assemble my military council and my top advisors. Have them ready as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Majesty." the guard responded. He trotted away with his new task.

The King then looked upon the admiral. "Thank you for delivering the Duke's terms. No reply is necessary; the Duke will not be expecting one. We will later discuss why the fleet failed to respond appropriately at the sound of warning bells. Be gone from my sight!" At this scolding the admiral hurried away. Turning to his wife, the King asked her to make herself scarce as well. Obediently she vacated the room and walked down the nearby corridor towards the bedchamber. Until he met with his council, the King wished to be left in solitude to collect his thoughts. Finding the throne too uncomfortable in which to conduct abstract thinking, the King left the room and followed his wife to the bedchamber. Not to be with her; however, the King desired something of higher value.

The King returned to the throne room, dragging his rocking chair down the hall. _I need a proper chair, _he thought.

Hans and the Duke ate breakfast while discussing the political situation of the Southern Isles. The food was not much to speak of, but good for pirate standards. The Duke found it abominable, but knew by dinner he would be enjoying a lavish banquet in the castle.

"So tell me about your family, Hans. Who else desires the throne? You can't be the only one." The Duke interrogated Hans with the utmost determination. A complete understanding the Southern Isles court would be essential for his schemes.

"Well," replied Hans. "There's my brother the King, of course. Most of the more powerful nobles dislike him; they have much to gain from his deposition. And my second eldest brother detests him. He and the King are very similar in age, and brother #2 has been jealous all his life. He hates living in the shadow of one he deems inferior. Although I covet my eldest brother's power, I do not however share my 2nd brother's views. The King is an extraordinary man who demonstrates a higher level of understanding of the natural world. His unique preferences reflect this, and I find it odd that they are often scrutinized." Hans would have continued describing the admirable and enlightened qualities of the good and wise King, but the Duke cut him off to return to the subject of their conversation.

"And what about your other brothers?" He asked.

Hans explained, "The third brother loves the King, and hates the second brother for hating him. The fourth brother loves and supports the second brother, hence hates the King and brother #3. The pattern continues down the line until you arrive at me. I hate no one, but simply seek the throne."

"That you do indeed..." said the Duke while moving his eyes about the room. The Duke spoke no more, and he and Hans finished the remainder of their meal in silent. Once finished eating, Hans took his leave to return to the ship deck. The Duke stayed behind, clearing the table to compose a series of letters. He composed as many letters as there were brothers in the Southern Isles royal family, excluding Hans and the King. The letters were divided into two categories, one addressed to those who support the King, and one addressed to those who support their own agendas. In the letters addressed to the brothers who supported the King, the Duke spoke of a treacherous plot in which supporters of Hans would assist a hostile pirate amphibious invasion at exactly three o'clock that afternoon. The pirates' mission, the letter stated, was to capture the city and overthrow the King. In the letters addressed to those who did not support the King, the Duke spoke of a plot in which supporters of the King would use the distressed emotions the citizens to rally behind the King's authority. They would usher in a state of ultra nationalism, and all who opposed the King would be oust from the city and banished from the entire Southern Isles. The letters stated the mass purge would commence at exactly three o'clock.

The Duke gathered the letters, signing the ones addressed to Hans' brothers who supported the King as the admiral of the Royal Fleet; and for the letters intended for the brothers who opposed the King, the Duke signed the letters as Hans. Admirers of the King would surely believe in the authenticity of the letters signed as the admiral, for the admiral was trustworthy and is the only member of the King's court who had spoken with the pirates firsthand. Him knowing about the pirate's plot would be a logical assumption. Those brothers who did not support the King may not be willing to rally behind Hans, but the letters would at least bring about more suspicion in their minds. They would view Hans as merely a misguided patriot who seeks to save his country through extreme and immoral means.

The Duke sealed each letter in an envelop and gathered them under his arm. He exited the captain's quarters and made his way to the deck. The morning sun shone bright above, implying that several hours had passed since breakfast. The Duke approached his two henchmen.

"Here," he said as he handed one series of letters to one, and the other series of letters to the other. "See to it that these find their ways to their respective recipients, and waste no time. Go, quickly." The Duke made sure not to be seen by Hans.

Both henchmen collected their letters and discreetly walked over to a nearby rowboat. If they distributed the letters without delay, perhaps all would reach their destinations by noon, giving the factions within the court about three hours to prepare. If they had ample time, an investigation could unravel the truth about the plot, but a mere afternoon would not be sufficient. Each brother who received one of the two types of letters would be in such disbelief that reason would take a backseat in their assessing the situation. The brothers would act in haste thinking they had only a matter of hours before their city would be launched into chaos. In their haste, each faction would prepare for what it thought the opposite faction would be preparing. They would do all the heavy lifting, leaving the Duke to sort out the pieces.


	5. Chapter 5: Coup d'État

**Coup d'État**

By two o'clock that afternoon the city had entered into a state of panic. Nobles hurried up and down the great halls of the castle, keeping their business to themselves. Everyone in the castle who experienced any degree of influence expected a disaster to unfold, and each thought he possessed secret information, when in fact all others knew it too. The brothers moving about the castle suspiciously glaring at other brothers they knew to be in the opposite camp. The King sat in his throne room rocking to and fro in his chair as hundreds of members of court crowded the space. Shouting widespread, brawls erupting throughout, and the feeble palace guard powerless to reign in the sheer magnitude of carnage. It would become apparent that the Duke's two henchmen had successfully completed their mission. The King had no solution to the chaos, so he patiently and stoically awaited the unknown.

In the streets the citizens took notice of the castle's high level of activity. Preparations of the sort were common during times of siege; however, the staggering level of disunity among those supposed to be preparing to defend them worried the townsfolk. Some even suspected the enemy had already breached the city and was currently assaulting the palace. Merchants pushed their carts as fast as possible out of the city square and towards the roads leading into the countryside. Families sought shelter in their homes and barricaded any possible entrance. Those with nothing to lose had already begun assembling a community militia, brandishing pitchforks and clubs as weapons. What they did not know however, was whom to fight. Local magistrates rode horseback throughout the city streets. Upon finding able-bodied men, they would call them to arms and cry for support. The problem for the Southern Isles, was that the magistrates affiliated themselves with various brothers and other members of court, the same individuals who suspected half the town to be in rebellion. When a magistrate viewed another city official belonging to a different political party organizing a band of armed citizens, the former magistrate would suspect the latter of treason, and command his small band of fighters to attack the mob of villains. A free-for-all ensued within the city, and several fires broke out in the more active regions. When the clock struck three the situation inside the palace became hopeless. Daggers were drawn, brother lashed out against brother. Many members of court as they ran about the castle walls were seized by palace guards or any who believed them to be traitors and were defenestrated, tumbling down the rocky cliff side to their deaths below. The chaos throughout the palace and city knew no bounds.

At the mouth of the harbor, the pirate fleet awaited further instruction. All seemed content to watch the cataclysm unfold in the capital city. On board the captain's flagship, Hans ran over to the Duke at first realization of what was happening.  
He said to the Duke, "What is this madness? We never even attacked. I won't have a kingdom left if this is allowed to continue."

The Duke calmly replied, "Don't worry lad, it's under my control."

Hans turned back and continued viewing the city in agony, anxiously awaiting and wondering what would come next. What sort of plan does this Duke have? Several hours passed and the carnage grew. Dusk befell the Southern Isles, but fire from the city's shops and houses lit the darkening sky. Under the cover of darkness, the Duke's two henchmen returned to the ship. They climbed aboard and casually approached the Duke.

"Nicely done my good fellows," he congratulated. "Now let's prepare for the next phase. Captain!"

The Duke yelled in the captain's general direction. The captain seemed displeased to have been disturbed.

"Prepare your men to launch an attack on the castle!"

The captain began barking orders at the crew who ran around assembling weapons and supplies. _If we can take the castle with minimal damage, _the Duke thought, _It will reflect positively on Hans and deflect blame towards his brothers and the King. _

Shortly after commissioning the invasion, all landing craft were loaded with pirate mercenaries and ready for departure. Hans and the captain boarded the lead vessel and made room for the Duke to climb in.  
"Oh that's quite alright sirs," spoke the Duke. "I have a pain in my stomach. I had better stay behind on the ship. Lower the flags on the castle to signal me that it's in your possession. I will be along shortly."  
The Duke turned and walked back towards the captain's quarters. Both Hans and the captain shared similar thoughts, but chose not to express them. Instead, the captain gave the order to cast off, and a multitude of landing craft left the larger ships and made headway for the shore.

Landing on the beach, Hans and the captain met little resistance. Most of the fighting had ceased, and the path the castle saw few armed fighters. A large portion of the city was in a state of charred ruins. Dropped baggage and weapons littered the streets as disoriented townsfolk tried to salvage what they could.

Hans and the pirates charged through the city, making their way to the castle hill. The pirates displayed remarkable discipline at refraining from plundering the city. To them the burnt out city had little left to offer. They would have preferred to have been here earlier in the afternoon; by now the action was over.

The party of mercenaries found the castle gates open, and no guards present. After entering the castle, discipline among the pirate ranks dissolved. Some element regarding being on palace grounds inspired their imaginations. They expected to find more valuable plunder here. Small raiding parties broke off from the main group and swarmed the castle. Anybody in possession of a weapon surrendered immediately. An entire afternoon of fighting without victory destroyed morale in the wake of a new wave of enemies. Hans and the pirate captain, along with a few of the more loyal pirates, ran through the palace corridors. They took captive any nobleman or member of the royal family they came across. Occasional corpses could also be found littering the hallways. The cries of the injured and dying became louder as the group made progress towards the throne room. They burst through the doors and found the King leisurely rocking in his chair; his eyes met Hans' and his lips parted to utter the words, "Welcome back, brother."

The scene inside the throne room horrified Hans. Several of his brothers and friends, including the admiral, lie dead on the floor. The violence seemed not to have discriminated. Even bodies of old and gray nobles, friends of Hans' late father, could be found among the devastation. Certain pirates set to work removing rings and other jewelry from the bodies to keep as loot.

"Captain," instructed Hans. "Have your men lower the flags on the castle. Signal to the Duke that it is time for his arrival. I require a moment alone with the King.

The captain experienced some difficulty mustering his men to comply, but eventually the throne room was cleared of all except Hans and the King, with the exception of several wounded men scattered around the room. Hans ignored their presence; their pains would distract them from the content of what would be spoken.

"So brother," spoke the King. "Look at what you have brought upon your nation. I should have had you executed when I had the chance."  
"Yes, you should have." replied Hans. "But you didn't. I'm inclined not to make that mistake, but on the other hand, we're family. Family shouldn't murder family."

The King seemed intrigued at Hans' moral sentiment. "You seem to contradict yourself." he said.

"What do you mean?"

"During the fighting, we uncovered the truth behind what caused the violence. Letters signed by you enticed half of my court to slay the other half. I knew you craved power, but I never knew you were capable of this."

Hans expressed confusion. "I never sent any letters."

Before he could interrogate his brother about these alleged letters, the pirate captain returned. "The Duke's vessel is in the water, he'll arrive shortly."  
"Very good then," Hans said. He dismissed the captain with a flick of the wrist. Turning back to the King, he expressed his concern.

"I would spare you, but the Duke would not. If you come with me to the dungeon, you'll be offered safety."

The King weighed his limited options. "And my wife?" he asked.

"Your bedchamber was locked, and there was no indication of a forced entry. She's possibly still inside. We can send for her and have you both protected in the cells."

The thought of being trapped with his wife and forced to listen to her endless chatter unhinged the King. He never enjoyed the company of his wife, but if he must be near her, he must also possess the freedom to walk away and seek solitude. The King's projection of his torture along with the general failure of his reign overcame him. Arising from his chair and dragging it as he walked, he raised his arm to his head and tossed his crown aside. It struck the floor, making a distinct ringing sound. The King walked over to the stained-glass window behind his throne. Punching the glass with his fist, the window shattered to fragments as a gust of wind penetrated the void. Hundreds of feet below awaited his death and relief.

"Beware that friend of yours, the Duke." the King said as a final warning. He placed his chair at the window's edge facing inwards. Sitting down, the good and wise King took a final trip in his beloved rocking chair. Allowing his momentum to carry him backwards, his face remained expressionless as his chair toppled down the cliff. To Hans' it seemed almost as if some third party came and intentionally pushed the King's chair backwards once it reached the pinnacle of balance.

"Goodbye, brother." Hans said aloud. He slowly walked over to where the crown had fallen. Picking it up, Hans placed it upon his head and sat in the throne for the first time.


	6. Chapter 6: The New King

**The New King**

Hans adjusted his position in the throne to achieve a higher level of comfort. All his life he craved to sit where he sat now, and finally dreams have become reality; although he never suspected the circumstances under his rise would be so grim. Most of the capital city had been reduced to rubble and burnt ash, and it would take some time before its fleeing population would return, but Hans felt apathetically towards most significant affairs. For him, all that mattered was the crown on his head, and his power to maintain it. Seizing the crown by use of force made him usurper, not king...a situation soon to be rectified once the Duke rode ashore. With most of the city's nobles killed or unaccounted for, the Duke would be the only known individual with the authority to officially crown him, a privilege granted by the treaty drafted on board the pirate ship. In the meantime, Hans must attempt to reassemble what little government that could be salvaged, but first he would have to dispose of those who refuted his rule. Calling for the mercenaries still stationed outside the throne room, he intended to start right away.

"Captain!" he shouted. "Come in at once."

The captain and what mercenaries remained, having chosen loyalty over plundering, appeared in the doorway.

"Gather all the wounded and captive you can find, have them thrown in the dungeon until I can pass judgment on them. And if you find any of my brothers," Hans continued after a brief pause. "Bring them to me at once."

Hans' orders spread quickly through the pirate ranks. Soon thereafter the castle had been swept clean of fugitives, and all had been carried to the dungeon, with the exception of Hans' surviving brothers and the late King's wife who were all taken to the throne room.

Hans pitied his brothers and his widowed sister-in-law despite her obnoxious sobbing. He wished he could grant them pardons, but he knew that if they remained in the Southern Isles, they would present a future problem. As long as his brothers had a claim to the throne, Hans' claim would be insecure, and the possibility of today's events repeating all the more likely.

"There will be no more bloodshed today," said Hans. "You are all henceforth banished from the Southern Isles. Be gone from my sight. Should you ever return, I will not spare you twice."

None of the brothers uttered a word, but no words were necessary. Hans could read the expressions in their eyes. Only the late King's wife mumbled something unintelligible between her moaning.

Hans motioned some nearby pirates to approach.

"Disguise them as peasants and take them to the docks. Outfit them with a vessel large enough to get them someplace remote and safe."

The pirates escorted the apparently relieved brothers out of the throne room. The former Queen put up some resistance, but was subdued by three more pirates who dragged her down the corridor kicking and screaming. Paying closer attention to his sister-in-law's attitude as they left, Hans felt he better understood the King's suicide, and paid silent tribute to the King's triumph of reason.

"Out of my way, Out of my Way!" yelled an infuriated Duke of Weselton as he forged a path through the palace courtyard crammed with unruly mercenaries. Fortunately for the Duke, his two henchmen accompanied him from the captain's ship. They asserted themselves in front of the Duke and shoulder-tackled their way through the horde. Finally the group reached the stairs and began the climb to the castle's main entrance. On their way up, they passed a curious looking group of five commoners, one outrageously distressed, being transported out of the castle and towards the sacked city. The Duke silently thought words of insult as his eyes glanced in their direction. At last arriving at the throne room entrance where the Duke expected Hans to be waiting, the two henchmen pushed open the doors. Hans alone occupied the room, sitting in the throne, while pools of blood and a destroyed stain-glass window distracted one's view from the more permanent features of the room.

"Don't worry Hans dear boy," the Duke assured. "We'll have servants clean this place in no time at all."

Before the Duke's arrival, Hans experience a strange sense of guilt at his seizure of the crown and the cost borne by the Southern Isles as a consequence; but upon seeing the Duke, Hans reverted to his power-hungry state of being, and any sentiment of remorse vanished.

"Yes," said Hans. "All went according to your 'plan'...the plan you kept secret from me. Why didn't you tell me how I was to achieve these ends? And I also learned that there were letters in circulation attributed to my hand that caused this unrest. Is that true?"

Hans interrogated the Duke vigorously, but his motives stemmed not from pity, but from frustration and being made a pawn in a more capable man's game.

The Duke ambiguously replied to Hans. "The ends justifies the means." he said. "Just look at you now. A King! The King meant to rule the Southern Isles from the beginning. Once enough people return to the city we can publicly display your good graces by having you ease the peoples' sufferings. Give your enemies strategic mercy, distribute relief to the burdened populace, and when public order is restored, we will have you officially crowned, but for now we should eat."

The Duke ordered his henchmen to coerce any remaining castle servants to prepare as prolific a banquet as possible. He had not had a decent meal since leaving Weselton, and he intended to make full use of the castle's provisional stores in the kitchen. Leaving the throne room, the Duke navigated the castle halls still noisily flooded with uncivilized pirates to the kitchen where just as he foresaw, he would be enjoying dinner in the Southern Isles royal palace.

Several days had passed before refugees gained the courage to return from hiding in the countryside. The pirates enjoyed continuous pillaging until King Hans passed an ordinance declaring the crisis over, and all illegal activity to cease. Most of the mercenaries were content with the riches acquired, and returned to their ships in order to leave the Southern Isles. A few even stayed behind to create a new life for themselves in the city reborn. As promised to the pirate captain, he was heavily rewarded. A large percentage of what remained of the Southern Isles treasury was transferred over to his name, and another percentage given to him in exchange for his returning the captured navy vessels over to the new Southern Isles government. He loaded his newly acquired personal treasure onto his flagship and sailed into the horizon, never again needing to revert to a life of piracy.

Though the city had been nearly razed and completely depopulated, the Duke found no hindrance in arranging King Hans' official coronation. There were no longer any disputes to the throne; most with a claim had perished a few days ago, and those that were unaccounted for remained so. Should the surviving members of Hans' family return, the Duke could easily have them dealt with. By now, the citizens would want peace at all costs and would be willing to accept anyone as King, so long as there would be a stable government. They would not take kindly to having order restored, only for Hans' family returning to restart the struggle. The surviving royal family would have no support and could be branded as fugitives. There would be no future worries for the Duke or Hans in the Southern Isles.

With the crisis over and order restored, the Duke's maintenance in the royal palace no longer justified government expenditure. Scheduled to depart for Weselton that day, the Duke had a final audience with the King. Meeting Hans in the throne room, the Duke greeting him casually.

"Good morrow, Your Highness," he spoke.

"Your Grace, I understand this be the day you return to Weselton?" replied the King.

"Yes Majesty, I leave in an hour or so." The Duke felt somewhat uncomfortable speaking to Hans in the manner due to a King, but the Duke's realization of his broader plans dwarfed his petty animosity.

"Before I depart however, perhaps Your Majesty would consider enacting that new trade agreement against Arendelle?"

"Yes, I could do that." stated King Hans. "Servants!"

At Hans' summoning several servants entered the room. Hans spoke to no one in particular. "Bring forth paper, quill and ink, and call upon a scribe to compose a document."

The servants exited the room, each seemingly knowing which task was assigned to whom. A few moments later, the materials had been gathered and a scribe sat on a stool, paper and quill in hand.  
"Write this down," instructed Hans to the scribe. "'Hence forth all trade relations with Arendelle are suspended indefinitely. All Arendelle merchants in the city and throughout the Southern Isles are expelled, and any who resist will be severely punished.' Make many copies and post my command throughout the city." Turning back to the Duke, Hans continued. "I'll inform what's left of our police force to prioritize this ordinance, and I will conscript loyal subjects to further carry out my orders. Trade with Arendelle will cease, and we will only deal with Weselton."  
The Duke took delight in King Hans' words. "Splendid, just splendid!" He cheered gleefully. "I'll take my leave now to return to Weselton and inform the Chamber of Commerce of what has transpired here, but before I go..." The Duke removed the cylinder container from its resting place atop his back. Unrolling it and handing it to Hans, he declared, "This is the treaty we signed. A few days ago I had a scribe make several copies with a surviving printing press and had them distributed throughout the town. The people will be overjoyed at you allowing them representation and a constitution with a legislative assembly. I know it will add legitimacy to your reign. Good day, Your Majesty, and cheers to our two nations!"

Hans expressed confusion at the Duke's reference to a constitution. He could not recall anything of the sort in the treaty. The Duke took a few steps backwards, bowed respectfully, and made his way towards the door. Walking through the castle hallways, he entered the courtyard and found his two henchmen waiting for him.  
"Let us go to the docks and find a ship to take us home. There we will begin the second phase of my plan."

As the trio stood on board a ship they hired to transport them back to Weselton, the Duke gazed intensely at the city fading in the distance. The Duke understood that Hans would be angry once he discovered the secret articles inserted in the treaty, but the Duke also understood that Hans will rather obey them as opposed to seeing the citizens revolt. The Southern Isles had been successfully incorporated into the Duke's fold.


	7. Chapter 7: Phase II

**Phase II**

On a late Autumn's eve, the Duke sat idly in an eloquent chair at his residence in Weselton as he relaxed in meditation. Over a year has transpired since the revolutionary events of the Southern Isles. The newly created Southern Isles Parliament had finally ratified its new constitution, the first of its kind in either realm, granting Southern Islanders liberal freedoms as well as political representation. Hans sat fixated in the throne with a newfound arrogance, but was always forced to curb his ever-demanding personal ambitions for the sake of stability. The Southern Isles' aristocracy had also experienced a great reduction in influence as the constitution dispersed power among the people. Breathing heavily, the Duke contemplated the constitution's implications.

Despite the breakdown of central authority in the Southern Isles brought about by last year's revolution, power did not quite reside with the Southern Isles populace. They now exert their natural rights and joyfully experience political representation in government, but one cannot survive off rights and liberties. The Revolution decimated the Southern Isles economy; merchants had fled the city, farmers abandoned their crops due to regime uncertainty, and anarchic fear for the future of markets brought the Southern Isles stock market to a paralyzing collapse. Hans' enthusiastic signing of the Duke's trade embargo treaty against Arendelle assured Weselton that the post-revolutionary Southern Isles would have no alternative but to rely entirely on Weselton trade outlets. Whether or not Southern Islanders received their daily bread depended entirely on the Duke's willingness to supply. The Duke grinned at the thought of complete control.

As the Duke pondered the world to be, he heard a forceful knocking at his door. His servants had been dismissed by this hour, and the Duke knew that bureaucratic affairs were addressed during daylight, leaving only one logical implication as to whom stood on the other side of the Duke's impressive doorway. Rising from his chair, the Duke made his way across his lavishly carpeted floor to his home's main entrance. Reaching for a stepstool nearby, the diminutive man climbed atop to gaze out of the peep-hole more easily accessible for a man of average height. The Duke would have probably ordered custom doors with eyeholes closer to the ground had he not been enlightened enough to know that heightened stature does not reflect heighted authority. As the Duke glared through the glass, he found himself staring directly into two bulk torsos. The Duke knew the outward appearance of his henchmen like he knew the streets of his city, thus he hastily opened the door anxious to hear whatever news they possess.

"Come, come" he spoke as he motioned them inside. The Duke had dispatched his two henchmen to Arendelle some several months previously to keep a detailed account of current events in the isolated kingdom. The trio made its way into the living quarters with the Duke leading, and also being the first to be seated as usual.

"Let's get straight to business, shall we?" The Duke spoke as he initiated the meeting. "What news of Arendelle?"

Each of the henchmen let slip a sinister grin as one of them responded: "The situation there is grave, My Lord. The trade embargo has had the desired effect: Having no one to trade with, the price of Arendelle's ice reserves plummet, causing an increase in price of all other goods and services which now have to be domestically produced to ensure the kingdom can survive."

The other henchman chimed in, "The time is perfect to begin the final phase of your plan."

The Duke stroked his mustache and pondered the implications of his henchmen's report. If Arendelle's economy is weak, it would offer the perfect environment to commence a hostile takeover, but given that Weselton alone lacks sufficient strength to overcome Elsa's ice powers and that the Southern Isles' loyalty to Weselton is defined by legal obligation as opposed to moral duty, the Duke would need to employ cunning if he intended to realize his dream.

"I know what I have to do," declared the Duke triumphantly. Looking at his henchmen, he gave them instruction. "Return to your homes for now and then reconvene here tomorrow. By that time I'll have composed a letter to King Hans instructing him to fulfill his commitment to us regarding military allegiance. You two will deliver this message to him personally and await my arrival with our fleet in three days time. Thence our forces will combine and we can finally extract revenge on that miserable sorceress. The time to move on Arendelle has come; go now and make haste. Don't delay!"

The Duke by this time had risen from his chair in excitement as he paced the floor uttering commands. His henchmen had also risen as dictated by rules of etiquette. As they made their way out of the Duke's mansion, the Duke bellowed after them, "Remember, boys, three days time!"

The next morning, the Duke rose before dawn. There was simply too much excitement bellowed up inside of him for rest to occur. If he could follow his plan to its conclusion, all he desired would be granted to him.

"Servants!" He yelled. "Wake up! Wake up at once!" The Duke's voice filled the mansion's halls as sleepy and yawning servants lumbered into the Duke's chamber. "Have my attire, breakfast, and carriage ready for me within a few moments. I need to depart immediately for city hall as soon as daylight allows."

The servants turned and made their way to their respective stations, rolling their eyes as they did so. They still had their night gowns on at the time of the Duke's absurd summoning, but the life of a servant could guarantee that such occasions would arise every once in a while, especially when one's master is the Duke of Weselton.

The Duke dressed in his usual garb making sure that all his medals and pins were properly arranged. He bustled down to the kitchen where the servants, still in their night gowns, had just completed preparing his breakfast. The Duke quickly devoured it and before darting out the front door where his carriage would be awaiting him, he penned a personal letter to King Hans requesting he fulfill the Southern Isles' commitment to Weselton. Giving the letter to his most entrusted servant, the Duke instructed him to hand it off to the two henchmen when they arrived. With that accomplished, the Duke trotted out of his home to his carriage.

"To City Hall, my good man," the Duke expressed gleefully to the driver as he climbed aboard. As the carriage departed the Duke's mansion, sunrise made its first appearance on the eastern horizon.

Within a few moments the Duke had arrived at Weselton City Hall. The capitol building boasted an impressive structure, complete with marble floors, giant stone pillars, and statues of Weselton's finest leaders from ages past. _Soon they will erect statues in my own honor, _thought the Duke as he dismounted his carriage and climbed the stairs leading to the building's entrance. The Duke navigated the interior of the building as he made his way to the Commerce Chamber. Upon finding it, he entered the room expecting to discover Weselton's leading merchants entrenched in debate regarding the city's economic outlook, but to the Duke's surprise, he found himself to be the only inhabitant of the chamber. _Lazy good-for-nothings, _thought the Duke as he inwardly reflected at how through their absence Weselton's leading merchants were slacking. _No matter, _continued the Duke in his head, _When they arrive all will be set in motion. _

Sitting at the head of the table, the Duke patiently awaited the arrival of the merchants. One by one they trickled in as the hour of their daily meeting approached. Last to enter was the head merchant, astonished that such a prestigious figure as the Duke would be present during the meeting. Typically, the Duke would only attend meetings of the utmost importance, so whatever brought him here today must surely bear great significance. Without raising a complaint at the Duke for having taken his customary seat at the head of the table, Weselton's head merchant took another seat, anxiously awaiting the Duke the call the meeting to order.

"Gentlemen," began the Duke, "Today is not a day for mincing words, so I will get straight to the point. I come before you today with a heavy heart...I have recently learned from a verifiable source that Queen Elsa of Arendelle, in response to our joint embargo in conjunction with the Southern Isles, has taken to coercing her citizens into forced labor in order to ensure Arendelle's Gross Domestic Product remains at pre-embargo levels. She threatens her people with her ice witchcraft, and severely punishes all whom resist her. The people are powerless and cry out for help. Gentlemen..." The Duke took a deep breath to add a dramatic element to his fabrication, "We must assemble our fleet and liberate the people of Arendelle. We must depose Queen Elsa. Without her, trade operations with Arendelle can resume, and its people can prosper once again. I assert that military action be considered."

Each and every one of Weselton's leading merchants, and therefore most powerful citizens, sat in silence and in awe of the Duke's brief speech. His claim seemingly came from nowhere, and his urging for military action seemed unprecedented. If the people of Arendelle are suppressed, how is it that word of atrocities have taken this long to reach Weselton? And how is it that the Duke alone possesses this knowledge? Questioning the Duke's claims, the merchants around the table began clamoring among themselves. Breaking this trend, the head merchant addressed the Duke directly.

"But Your Grace," he spoke, "there's no proof. And even if there were proof we would not have probable cause. Not to mention the question of validity regarding your claim. Arendelle has been under embargo for over a year now and no such rumors have come to light as those of which you speak."

The Duke responded to the head merchant as the others grew silent. "It's true that there is no proof for us to interpret, but it was King Hans himself who brought this concern to my attention. In a letter he wrote to me less than a fortnight ago, he spoke of how Aredelle refugees have been migrating to his island kingdom in search of sanctuary. He claims that their numbers grow by the day, and that each one bears heart-breaking stories of the horrors Queen Elsa is unleashing upon her people." The Duke continued spinning his web of lies. "King Hans has already mobilized his forces, and will officially ask for assistance within a few days. I propose we preemptively accept his request and mobilize ourselves. We will unite our forces and descend upon Arendelle, liberating its people."

The Duke knew that his henchmen would be arriving in the Southern Isels within a day or so. King Hans will receive the Duke's letter and will have no choice but to fulfill his obligations to Weselton and dispatch military aid. By the time word circulates back to Weselton, it will be true that the Southern Isles have mobilized, but for reasons different than those currently offered by the Duke.

One of the other merchant leaders present weighed in: "What you're proposing, Your Grace, will certainly alter the course of things for decades to come. Our trade vessels will have to be refitted for battle, leaving fewer vessels with which to maintain our exports. Our profits will decline, as will that of Weselton in general."

The Duke made a quick retort, "True, very true," he conceded, "but once this campaign is over and Arendelle is free, we can renew trade with her, making up for any losses you bear while your ships are committed to battle. Your sacrifices today will be repaid ten-fold in the future, I assure you."

The Duke expressed a grin of satisfaction as he concluded his argument. The merchants took comfort in his confidence, and resumed their gossiping. Each dreamed aloud of the future returns on this investment. With free trade to Arendelle unobstructed by Elsa's totalitarian regime, any economic feat could be possible. The noise grew louder as merchants began laughing and patting each other on the back, making jokes of how rich they will all soon be. Before their behavior slipped out of control, the head member spoke above the crowd.  
"I propose putting this matter to a vote." He said. "All in favor?"

Each merchant present raised his hand in agreement. The decision was unanimous. Weslton would mobilize its trade fleet to conduct military operations against Arendelle.

Looking at the Duke, the head merchant nodded his head as he spoke. "Very well, Your Grace, you have your fleet."

"Excellent," replied the Duke as he rose from his chair and left without another word. Without a second thought he would make his way to the docks and commandeer every vessel he could find in the name of Arendelle's freedom. Once assembled, all that remained was to sail to the Southern Isles and rendezvous with King Hans, the henchmen, and the Southern Isles armada.


	8. Chapter 8: Reunion

**Reunion**

Shortly after the successful conclusion of the council meeting in city hall, the Duke of Weselton eagerly made his way to the dockyard. The Duke walked with renewed enthusiasm when the white sails of the ships came into sight. Finally arriving at the docks he found dozens of vessels, each varying in size and purpose, with some bringing goods in while others being prepared to take goods out. Weaving in and out of seamen hustling to and fro, the Duke navigated to the center of the dockyard where he would make a declaration, much to the chagrin of the sailors and dock workers. Catching the attention of a nearby sailor carrying a crate, the Duke made himself known.

"Excuse me, you there!" The Duke exclaimed. "Come here my good fellow."

The seaman expressed surprise at finding the Duke, whom he had not noticed until just now, standing in the midst of the dockyards. "Your Grace," replied the seaman as he walked over to the Duke's location, "to what do I owe this most unexpected honor?"

The Duke looked up at the perplexed sailor. "I need you to loan me that crate of yours." He said while motioning the sailor to place the crate at his feet; it was clearly not a suggestion. With the intent of standing atop the crate to achieve heightened visibility in order to make his announcement, the Duke raised his right leg in anticipation of the climb.

The sailor extended both arms in front of him in an attempt to warn to the Duke. "Don't step on it!" he cried, but it was too late. The Duke tried standing on the crate, but the crate was of poor construction and without content. The Duke's boot forcefully penetrated the top of the crate, much to his embarrassment. Shaking his foot hither and thither, the Duke tried to cast off the crate lodged on his leg, but to no avail. It remained firmly stuck.  
"Pull it off me at once!" demanded the Duke of the sailor.

Inwardly reflecting on how his wages were too meager for dealing with this sort of nonsense, the sailor complied with the realization that sometimes every man must bite a bullet. With the box removed, and to the Duke's ignorance, the developing spectacle had already drawn a small crowd of onlookers whose attentions were now devoted to the Duke, if not but for the day's comic relief.

Refocusing from the now destroyed crate back to the sailor, the Duke came up with an alternative to his need for a pedestal. "Get on your knees," said the Duke to the sailor. "You'll carry me on your shoulders."

The sailor dared not disobey the Duke regardless of the demeaning task now commanded of him. Lifting the Duke onto his shoulders, he rose from his knees and now the Duke could be seen by all.  
"Good seaman of Weselton!" shouted the Duke, "Lend me your ears. Delay your present affairs and gather around." The many sailors who were not already gathered in the area turned to see the Duke towering above the growing crowd. Shrugging their shoulders at one another, sailors approached the congregation to hear what the Duke had to say.

Once the crowd was large enough for the Duke's fancy, he initiated his announcement. "I bring grave news that affects each and every one of you. Weselton and the Southern Isles are to carry a military expedition against Arendelle. All of these vessels are to be temporarily pressed into service. They will be outfitted for combat, and the goods will be stashed in Weselton's dry stores until the venture is over. Until said time, trade is suspended, and you are all now honorary members of Weselton's navy. Congratulations to you all! All of the ships' owners and your employers have consented and endorsed this endeavor. Begin making the necessary preparations immediately. We sail before midday!"

The crowd stood in disbelief. Many present were not Weselton citizens, but merchants and crewmen from distant lands, including the Southern Isles. Up until that moment, none of them realized relations with Arendelle had deteriorated to the point of armed conflict, nor did they realize relations between Weselton and the Southern Isles were solid to the point of military cooperation. Initially, few within the crowd set about fulfilling the Duke's request. Most of the men present simply stood confused or discussed the developments among themselves. The Duke was not pleased with the apparent lack of motivation.

The Duke shouted at the crowd of sailors. "All the preparations are arranged, all that remains is to execute them. Get to it at once or I'll see to it personally that you're tried for treason! And to those who do not live here, I'll ensure that you lose your job to never find employment again! Your families will starve unless you do as I say!" Immediately after concluding his rant, the Duke turned his head down at the sailor on whose shoulders he rested. "And get me down from here!" he demanded. Without waiting for the sailor to descend, the Duke impatiently climbed down by himself, pulling hair and causing discomfort to the sailor. Relieved of his obligation, the sailor quickly scurried away so as not to be called upon by the Duke for any more ridiculous requests.

Straightening out the folds of his uniform, the Duke glanced around ensuring all bodies were busy hustling to prepare the fleet for a naval expedition, and also to find the ship he would use as his command vessel in the coming campaign. Finding the largest and most impressive vessel, the Duke walked over to it and climbed the wooden plank leading aboard.

"Who is the captain here?" asked the Duke to the crew in general.

A familiar voice came from the rear of the vessel. "I am, Your Grace."

Turning to the revealed captain, the Duke immediately recognized a familiar face to match the familiar voice. Behind the Duke near the command post and helm of the multi-deck ship stood the mercenary pirate captain from last year's takeover of the Southern Isles.

"My word," expressed the Duke in surprised as he climbed the narrow stairs leading to the command center of the ship, "if it isn't my old colleague in arms. Of all the scoundrel mucking about in this cesspool, I'm content to know that at least one is of capable stock."

Not knowing whether he had just been insulted or complimented, or both, the pirate captain gracefully bowed in respect to the Duke, as custom would have it.

The Duke continued, "What are you doing here anyhow?"

"Thanks to the generosity of Your Grace regarding the distribution of Southern Isles plunder," spoke the mercenary, "I've been able to abandon my life as a rouge and embrace the life of a businessman. I've invested the wealth bestowed upon me by Your Grace into many of the vessels you see before you today, and being familiar with geography and the nature of trade between the various kingdoms of this region, I have been quite successful as a merchant."

The Duke showed a rare look of amazement. "Indeed you have," he said. The Duke had never seen a lowly renegade so successfully transform into a wealthy merchant. "Upon returning to Weselton," continued the Duke, "You shall have a place among the council of merchants." The Duke need not emphasize that such a circumstance would depend upon whether or not the coming campaign would end in success or failure, for the Duke could be assured in his abilities to bring about another victory.

The mercenary merchant pirate captain was taken aback with shock. "Why...why thank you, Your Grace," as he said whilst dropping to one knee in an act of total submission. Bowing his head to hide his absurd smiling, the captain nearly burst with excited. Given that the last time he served under the Duke led to enrichment beyond his wildest dreams, the captain would enthusiastically follow him in any endeavor. Regaining his composure, he returned to his feet. Speaking with complete confidence, he clenched his fist in front of himself. "We will force Arendelle to yield to your will, just as we did the Southern Isels." he said.

"Yes, that we will indeed." replied the Duke.

While the captain and Duke were chumming it up, the sailors and dock workers had nearly finished preparations. Shipments of arms were being transported from Weselton's arsenal to the hulls of the ships, as nonessential goods were being unloaded. Initially discouraged at the thought of war, destruction, and suspension of trade operations, the sailors slowly changed their moods as they replaced pessimism with dreams of conquest, glory, and plunder. Before the Duke's preordained midday deadline had come to pass, the newly acquired Weselton navy was ready for departure.

"Your Grace, it appears we're ready." spoke the captain to the Duke.

"Splendid!" exclaimed the Duke. "Make sail for the Southern Isles. There we'll meet with Hans and his fleet, and embark together towards Arendelle. In the meantime, I'll be using your quarters as my own. Good day to you sir." With these remarks, the Duke scampered back down the narrow, wooden stairs and descended into the captain's chambers. The captain, at having not been at all surprised at the Duke's seizure of his bed once more, ordered the signal to be given that the fleet should at once cast off.

The next day, the Duke's two henchman arrived at the Southern Isles in a small ship they had hired to take them there. As the Southern Isles' main coastal city drew close, scorch-stained rooftops and occasional destroyed buildings indicated that the city has yet to make a full recovery from last year's events. Though the henchmen had departed Weselton the same day as the Duke and the fleet, only earlier in the morning, they knew that the Duke's fleet would take significantly longer to arrive, given that it would travel at the speed of its slowest vessel. The henchmen remembered their instructions clearly. They were to deliver the message from the Duke to Hans that they received from the Duke's residence earlier that day, and use the remaining two days to strong-arm Hans into outfitting the Southern Isles' navy for battle. By that time, the Duke and Weselton's navy would arrive, and the Duke would be expecting the Southern Isles to be fully prepared to honor its agreement. Before the ship came to a complete stop at the nearest docking platform, the two henchmen simply jumped into the knee-deep water and aggressively waded ashore. They had little time with which to work, and actions such as docking a ship could not compare to the task at hand. They needed to acquire an immediate audience with King Hans in his mountainside castle.

Navigating the still war-battered city proved easy enough; the henchmen had been there before and all one need do when one's destination is the castle is to continually travel uphill in its general direction. Finally reaching the front gate, the henchmen approached the castle guards standing outside the doorway.  
"Halt, who goes there?" one of the guards demanded.

Without saying a word, the henchmen revealed the letter with the Duke of Weselton's seal, implying that they were his personal envoys. The castle guard motioned them inside. The interior of the castle did not reflect the condition of the town below. Shortly after the revolution of last year, King Hans had the castle cleaned, repaired, and renovated, much to the expense of the state. It was clear that King Hans was a vain character who desired a strong image.

Being familiar with the winding corridors of the stronghold allowed the two henchmen to quickly find their way into the throne room. Without waiting for permission to enter, and then without waiting for appropriate acknowledgement, the henchmen burst through the large doorway proclaiming to all, "We bear word from Weselton!"

The throne room was packed with nobles, gentlemen, gentlewomen, and other various figures, with King Hans sitting upright and proud in his throne. Behind him, the stain-glass window from which the last King destroyed in his suicide had long since been replaced by a new window, equally as impressive as the last, boasting the image of King Hans in all of his supposed glory.

Upon hearing and seeing the two henchmen, the throne room and court of the Southern Isles, through which all significant activity of the kingdom was directed, fell silent and directed its collective attention at the unannounced visitors.

"Your Majesty," said one of the henchmen as they approached his throne. With each of them bowing respectively on one knee, the one henchmen continued, "We have an urgent dispatch from His Grace, the Duke of Weselton."

King Hans stroked his beardless chin. "Bring it to me," he said.

Taking the folded letter from the henchmen, he motioned them to stand aside at ease. Unfolding it and reading the Duke's words, King Hans sat in his throne with mixed feelings regarding the Duke's request for immediate military aid, while the influential nobles around him stared on in suspense. Silently reflecting at how he somewhat despised the Duke for sneaking in additional terms to their original agreement and exploiting his kingdom, Hans realized he had no choice but to oblige the Duke, given that without the Duke's help, Hans would not even have the throne.

Looking up from the letter to the congregation of spectators, Hans made his official decree. "The Duke of Weselton asks that we aid him in the conquest of Arendelle...prepare the fleet!"

The two henchmen looked at each other in satisfaction, with one of them giving the air a light fist pump. The more aggressive of the nobles present or any who bore grievances against Arendelle cheered on, as those who had no case for war sunk in despair. Hans jumped up from his throne. "Servants!" he cried. Several servants rushed over from their posts. "Get me my uniform," he commanded, and saying to no one in particular, he exclaimed, "assemble my military council!" The Southern Isles would answer Weselton's call.

Within twenty-four hours, the Southern Isles fleet bad been assembled and was ready to depart. It still had not recovered its pre-revolution strength; the new government sought to spend public funds elsewhere in order to accommodate Hans' extravagant lifestyle within the castle. Despite its flaws, the Southern Isles fleet would offer itself as a nice complementary force to Weselton's. With their combined fleets, the Duke should have no concern over whether or not naval superiority had been achieved. When King Hans, dressed in his customary uniform and ready to initiate the procedure, arrived at the bay, he found the two henchmen already there. They were sitting idly by waiting for final preparations to be made. Upon noticing the King, they stood up and then bowed again.

"Your Majesty," they said in unison. "The fleet is ready," continued another. Without a word, King Hans motioned them to rise and follow him onto his command vessel. Once aboard and in place near the helm with the two henchmen behind him, King Hans gave the order for cast off. The Southern Isles fleet left the bay one ship at a time, and made for open water towards the Duke's approaching fleet.

Both fleets sailed towards one another, and on the dawn of the third day, just as the Duke had foreseen, they met in neutral waters.

"Sails ho!" cried the watchman aboard the Southern Isles lead command vessel upon the first sighting of distant ships. King Hans snatched a telescope from the hands of a nearby officer and peered through its glass. "It's the Duke and his fleet." said King Hans. "Pull up along side his flagship."

Within the hour, the two fleets had converged. The two flagships met side by side while ropes and wooden planks were extended to unite them. Once the ships were stable, King Hans boarded the Duke's ship.

When Hans boarded, the Duke yelled from the ship's bridge where he had been waiting ever since his watchman, too, had spotted the approaching fleet from the opposite direction. "Hans old chap! Good to see you lad!"

Irritated that the Duke had addressed him absent respect and not by his formal title of king, Hans replied to the Duke's greeting. "Your Grace."

Had the Duke given Hans verbal tribute, it would risk compromising the fact that it was he, not Hans, who was in charge of this operation, and it would be he, not Hans, who would emerge as the ultimate victor. Everything had been precisely calculated by the Duke.

Hans ascended the wooden staircase to the bridge where the Duke would be waiting with the Duke's two henchmen following along. "Are you ready to extract revenge on Queen Elsa?" Hans casually asked the Duke.

The Duke seemed puzzled. "Revenge?" he pondered aloud. "I know not of what you speak, this a war of liberation. In either case, let's not delay a moment more. Set a course for Arendelle!" he cried to the ship. The crew cheered on, encouraged and anxious to take part in the events that would soon make history.

The two fleets turned in a large, circular type motion, and became one united fleet. The Duke, his two henchmen, and King Hans, along with the mercenary merchant pirate captain stood aboard the lead vessel as the combined fleets made common course for Arendelle.


End file.
